


The painted table

by Thehairshirt



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, Anal Sex, Kind of the worst sorry, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Seriously no ties to anything canonical, Spanking, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thehairshirt/pseuds/Thehairshirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the ASOIAF kink meme, prompt: "Stannis does not like to be disturbed, especially when he is plotting his next move in the battle for Westeros. Jon does not like to be ignored, especially when he is horny. An epic struggle ensues, with a neglected Jon moping around like a spoilt child, all pouty and adorable, tempting Stannis and trying to distract him from his work. </p>
<p>In the end Stannis finds Jon sprawled out on Aegon's Painted Table, naked and stretching himself with his fingers for his King's cock. How can he resist?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The painted table

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of rushed through this one, and don't feel entirely happy with it. You know the feeling of really wanting to write something and once you get there you don't know where to go with it? Yep, that was me. If this is the first of my fics you're reading - maybe go read a different one than this first. Ha. Well, now i've really sold this piece to you - enjoy!

“Not now.”

Stannis threw a sharp glare to Jon, who was leaning upon one arm in the doorway of the room. Jon let his arm relaxed and stepped forward into the room slowly, his steps confident and yet they made almost no sound on the thick carpet. His dark eyes fixated on Stannis, who had returned back to his quill and parchment, and the small scratching sounds he made as he wrote seemingly filled the room. Jon slid over rolls of parchment, and sat with one thigh on the desk. Stannis looked up at him with distain. 

“I said not now, and get off my desk right this moment.”

Jon shrugged, dusting off his black-gloved hands and hopped from the desk, shaking it so that ink nearly spilt upon the document Stannis was working on. His hard eyes turned to Jon, his teeth grit in frustration. 

“I’m going.” Jon muttered, his eyes falling to his own black leather boots, pouting like a sullen child who had not gotten his way.

This was not the first time this had happened.

There had been the time where Jon mysteriously walked in upon Stannis bathing. The time Jon “accidentally” spilt some wine on Stannis’ lap and tried to help him clean it off. The countless times that Jon had appeared, looking wonton and sulky, attempting to steer Stannis’ attention from more important matters. 

Jon had made a peculiar habit of appearing at Stannis’ side, especially when he was unwanted or unneeded. Stannis thought Jon a honourable young man with much potential for greatness, both traits that he found extremely admirable. However, Jon’s penchant for interrupting Stannis’ work with poorly feigned excuse was beginning to wear thin on the man. He sighed, throwing his quill down into the ink, massaging his weary eyes with one hand. Jon had first approached him after a feast, moons ago, and lay on Stannis’ bed, mewling like a pathetic kitten. Stannis vividly recalled the scent of wine on Jon as he pulled him to his feet and ordered him out of the room at once. He knew what Jon wanted, but he had no mind to take part in frivolous activities of the flesh. Stannis had a realm to conquer, and his greatest enemy was the small part of him that wanted to humour Jon Snow.

The clatter of knives and forks on plates and the chatter of his most loyal men filled Stannis’ head, but he remained silent as he picked apart his venison with a fork absent-mindedly. A serving boy quickly paced around the table, filling guests cups with wine. Stannis felt a queer sensation on his leg, and glanced downwards. A familiar boot was rubbing against his own; he scowled and glanced to his right, to Jon’s seat. Jon blushed, and took a sip of wine, turning his head away, as though his foot was straying with a mind of its own. Stannis’ lady wife was seated to his left, and their daughter next to her, and yet Jon still made his pathetic attempts to coerce Stannis nonetheless. He stood from the table, wiping his mouth in a hurry and throwing his napkin down onto his half-finished plate. Stannis did not beg for pardons or excuse himself, he was the true king. He stormed wordlessly out of the dining hall, and decided he would rather retire for the night than to put up with Jon anymore.

\--

Jon had been attracted to Stannis as soon as he had lay eyes upon him. He even had thrown himself at the man on several occasions, when wine had numbed his judgment and tossed aside his inhibitions. However, the stoic façade of Stannis Baratheon was unbroken, and Jon was yet to gain what he searched for with such great need.

Jon was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, devising a plan to make himself irresistible to Stannis. He thought about rubbing Stannis’ leg with his own, and that thought alone stirred his cock. He reached down, and began to stroke himself, palm wet with spittle. He closed his eyes, and imagined that it was Stannis that was stroking him gently from base to tip. He thought of hot breath whispering of what was yet to come in an ear, and Stannis’ cock pressed against his thigh. He imagined the stern commanding voice ordering him to touch himself as Stannis watched and of fingers seeking out pleasure in places Jon had scarcely been touched. His whole body seemingly ached with want, no – with need. He needed Stannis inside him, thrusting hard, pushing his face down onto the bed. He needed Stannis to make him come harder than he ever thought possible. Jon softly moaned the name of the object of his desire as he rode the last few strokes of his hand into ecstasy, his hot seed like rain droplets all over his chest and stomach. He panted, lying in the glow of his orgasm for a few moments, before clumsily attempting to clean himself up with a rag, and rolling over to his side for sleep. 

He awoke as the crack of dawn seeped through the curtains of his bedchamber.  
Jon did not dress himself in his usual garb today, instead merely donning simple cloth tunic and breeches, the kind usually reserved for sleeping or for under heavier clothes. His heart raced as he quickly made way to the Chamber of the Painted Table, nodding nonchalantly as he passed a servant. Closing the heavy doors behind him, Jon allowed himself a moment to regain his composure as he had begun to shake, and decided to wait for Stannis.

\--

Stannis had woken up before dawn, and decided that he would break his fast alone before continuing with his usual routine. War had changed the lands, both politically and physically, and it was all a lot to keep in ones mind. Stannis found the Chamber of the Painted Table was where his most important work was done, especially in the morning when many in the castle still slept. His heart leapt for a moment as he entered the chamber and came across a very unexpected scene.

Jon lay upon the great table, amongst the carved wooden figures representing the forces of each house. Stannis slammed the door behind him, and strode over, anger in his eyes. He approached Jon and slapped his face hard.  
“What are you doing?” He spat, teeth grit together.

Jon’s face was red from the force of the blow, but his face remained unmoving. His heart raced. It was an extremely foolish and risky plan, but maybe it would pay off.

“You know what I want.” He said, stretching his body out like a pale cat, unashamed of his exposed body. “Im here to please my lo- my king, in every way.”

Stannis stood still, eyes regarding Jon’s toned body. His skin was fair but his hair was a near-black that created a beautiful contrast in the morning light. He gasped in surprise as he felt Stannis roughly seized his dark mane, and pulled him closer to the edge of the table, scattering about the carefully placed wooden icons. 

“Get up.” Commanded Stannis, his face still as a mask, as he unbuckled his belt. Jon’s already-swollen cock throbbed again in anticipation, and he obeyed, clumsily rising to his feet off the table.

“Turn around.” Stannis said again, and as soon as Jon had turned his body Stannis’ hand was around his throat. Stannis used his other hand to run fingers down Jon’s chest in a way that was so exquisite it was almost painful. “Is this what you really want?” 

“Please.” Jon whispered, pressing his backside harder into Stannis and placing his hands upon the painted table. 

Stannis pulled down his breeches enough to expose himself, and although Jon could not see it, he felt his whole body tremble in anticipation. Stannis was hard for him, and already using broad hands to trace down to Jon’s hips. Just the small amount of raw contact was enough to make Jon want to beg.

Stannis spat in one hand and pushed a finger inside Jon, the other hand wandering to Jon’s cock. Jon groaned, his splayed fingers grasping on the flat edge of the table for some kind of purchase. He felt a second finger inside him, and Stannis let go of his cock and gripped his dark hair once more. Jon suddenly felt himself roughly pushed downward, so that his cheek was flat against the table, his legs still spread. He cried out meekly as Stannis pushed his cock inside him, pinning him down with one hand between his shoulder blades. Stannis thrust as deep as he could, and Jon bit down on his lower lip in pain. He relished the pain though, and he knew that soon enough the pain would fade away and he could focus on the pleasure at hand.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Stannis asked, as he thrust again with enough vigor to send several wooden pieces rolling from the table to the floor.

“Yes – gods, yes, fuck me.” Jon panted.

“I will not tolerate you speaking of the heathen gods in my home.” Stannis replied coldly, and Jon winced as he felt a hand slap him with great force across one buttock, and Stannis felt the tight muscle clench around him. Stannis did not want to let anyone know – not even himself – that he was enjoying himself, but he found it hard to deny the sensation of warmth and tightness, and Jon’s willingness to please him. 

“I am sorry, y-your grace, punish me accordingly.” Jon hissed in a whisper, and flinched as Stannis brought down his hand even harder than before. Stannis then continued to thrust, hard, deep strokes that forced moans of pleasure from Jon every time he hit that sweet spot. Jon felt close already, and groaned, raking his fingernails along the painted table. His cock had been neglected once Stannis was inside him, but just having Stannis pounding into him, filling him up was enough to push him close to the edge. Stannis grunted, pulling Jon upright with a fistful of hair so that his back was arced against him, Jon’s arms pinned back between them.

“I’m so close.” Whispered Jon in his ear, breathlessly. “Please.”

Stannis grabbed Jon’s cock and pumped the length of his shaft several times, letting go just before Jon could get his release. Jon whimpered and panted, and his cock throbbed hard, a line of his seed trickling down the length of the shaft. Jon wrenched an arm free, and franticly stroked himself, gasping as the rest of his seed spurted fourth and his body was rocked with pulses of pleasure. Stannis moaned into Jon’s hair for the first time, and then after a few hard thrusts he was already pulling out of Jon. Jon sighed, and Stannis finally let him go, allowing him to take a moment to rest on the table. Jon peered back at Stannis, who was already gathering up the wooden pieces that had fallen to the floor and placing them carefully back on the table in their precise correct location. Stannis cleared his throat, and tossed Jon’s discarded linen garb back to him. 

“If you don’t mind Jon, I must really be getting back to trying to win back my kingdom.” Stannis said, scratching at his chin pensively. Jon laughed, as he quickly pulled the tunic over his head. Jon turned and regarded Stannis once more before he closed the doors shut behind him, and he left with a smile on his face as he was dismissed from the room with a wave.


End file.
